Heywood was just across from the prison, only a couple minutes away. So, when Anna dropped me there, I could feel the stares of the inmates on me, wondering why I was climbing out of the van so quickly after we had just left the prison. Cyndi tossed me the key fob for my Kusanagi with a quick flick of her wrist and I caught it easily.
“I’ve got another job to do,” I lied to the inmates before slamming the van door behind me.
I watched as the Supron drove away, and when it turned the corner I deactivated my behavioral face implant. Martin Price’s face melted away, leaving just me standing there. I stripped off all the clothes I’d worn as Price – the fancy shirt, the tie, the polished shoes – until I was left with just my boxers. I eventually got to where Cyndi had left my Kusanagi and popped open the small trunk – more a cubby, really – on the bike and grabbed the clothes I’d stashed there earlier.
Once dressed, I swung a leg over the Kusanagi and revved up the engine. The bike shot forward, tearing down the street, the wind whipping past as I let my thoughts drift to the chaos I’d just unleashed on the city.
Even now, barely twenty minutes into the blackout, I could see the early signs that Night City was on the brink of something terrible. People were spilling out of their apartments, disoriented and confused, trying to figure out what was going on.
Night City without its neon was…unfamiliar. Streets were filled with an eerie silence, everything looked bleak and grey, and buildings seemed to loom ominously over everything. As I raced through the streets on my Kusanagi, I could feel the city slowly start to unravel around me.
The sound of sirens filled the air as cop cars raced towards Arroyo where the prison riot was in full swing. The chaos seemed like a magnet, drawing every badge in the city into its orbit, leaving the rest of Night City to fend for itself.
The city was already starting to fall apart. I passed burning car wrecks that littered the streets and saw people smashing store windows with bats. Gangs roamed freely like packs pf predators. They all seemed to sense the opportunity the blackout had just handed them. I passed a group gathered outside a shattered store front, their arms loaded with stolen goods. Everyone was moving like a school of piranhas, stripping the place bare in minutes before moving on to their next target.
I leaned into a sharp turn and felt the Kusanagi’s tires grip asphalt as I threaded my way through the city that was devouring itself. I kept my focus ahead, even as my mind worked in the background, sending messages to Diego and Anna.
Noah: status?
Diego: just finishing up. Was in a good spot near the prison, scanning everyone escaping. Zion’s got the van. We hit a few high-bounty marks and snagged a couple worth the effort. We heading to the meeting spot?
Noah: yea. Anna and Cyndi should be there. We’ll wait for you. Have Zion drop you at your van and then come in after everyone leaves.
I closed the messages and turned my attention back to the road. As I neared the meeting spot, I could make out the Mahir Supron in the shadow of the underpass. Anna’s Archer Hella was parked nearby with Cyndi leaning casually against it. She cradled her Satara shotgun in her hands, looking completely unfazed as the city tore itself apart.
The inmates were all scattered around the underpass, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and fear as they took in the state of the city. Vincent Macuzzi was yelling at Anna, his voice rising in an attempt to establish some sort of control.
“You need to take me to my people. Now!” Macuzzi’s voice echoed off the concrete of the underpass, but it was clear he was struggling to keep composed. He knew he wasn’t in control here.
Anna didn’t even blink. She shot him a cold, unflinching stare, and just like that, his bravado crumbled. The other inmates had the good sense to stay quiet, and I noticed Jago watching the exchange with a cool detachment.
I pulled up on the Kusanagi, drawing the attention of all the inmates. I could feel their eyes on me, sizing me up. I was glad I was wearing the solo jacket that Deng got me. It made me look a lot more intimidating than the fancy suit I wore as Martin Price. As I dismounted my bike, Cyndi shot me a greeting and Jago’s eyes tracked me.
I wasn’t wearing the face of Martin Price anymore. None of the inmates would have any idea who I was, so I needed to establish some authority here. I shot Cyndi and Anna a text, telling them to: play along.
“Hm. You good?” I asked Anna.
“Just waiting on Diego and Zion.”
“Zion might be held up. He’s still at the prison. I’ll have a word with him when he gets here.” I looked around, pretending to scan the group. “And the lawyer?”
“Dropped him off like you wanted.”
Vincent, still smarting from Anna’s earlier shutdown, decided to try his luck with me. “And who the hell are you?” he demanded, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
I gave him a cold and dismissive look, as if he wasn’t worth answering. Then I shifted my eyes towards Anna.
“The lawyer brought them along,” she explained. “Thought they could be useful. They’ve got contacts that could help, and he suggested they could pay for…services rendered.”
I paused, pretending to mull it over, letting the tension simmer in the air for a moment. Finally, I sighed. “Fine. They can stay in some of our safehouses until the heist.”
“Why…why us?” asked Santiago Alvarez. He’d hacked more corps than most people could name, but his voice was shaky as he suddenly found himself mixed in with incredibly dangerous people. “Why break us out?”
I met his gaze and then pointed to Jago. “My crew only needed to grab one of you. I had an extra spot open, and I figured that Mr. Sbernic here might put in some work for me. But since you all decided to tag along, I’ll make use of you.”
The response hit them like a truck. They’d expected some grand explanation or some intricate reason for why I had unleashed chaos on Night City. Instead, they were faced with the answer that I’d turned the city into a warzone just to extract a single guy from prison on the off chance that he’d want to work for me on a heist.
“Now,” I continued, “you can work with me and get something out of this, or you can go your own way. Your choice.”
The unspoken threat lingered in the air: they’d witnessed everything I just pulled off. If they didn’t work for me, that would make them liabilities. And I wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of any liabilities. I’d already plunged the city into chaos and sparked a prison riot. What would I do to them if they decided not to play along?
Just then, Diego’s van rolled up under the underpass, its headlights drawing the attention of the inmates. The van came to a stop beside the Supron, and Diego stepped out, his boots crunching on the gravel as he approached me.
I gave him a nod hello and said, “Help me with the evidence.”
The way I phrased it sent a shiver through the group. They watched, wide-eyed, as Diego and I grabbed a container and hose from the back of his van. We got to work siphoning every last drop of chooh2 from the Supron’s tank. The sharp smell of fuel filled the air and the tension from the inmates thickened with each passing second.
Once the Supron’s tank was dry, we poured the chooh2 all over the van, soaking it inside and out. I glanced back at the group, their eyes locked on me. Standing there in front of a van drenched in fuel, I could almost hear their thoughts: ‘if we don’t fall in line, we’re getting stuffed in there and torched.’
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“So, what’ll it be?” I asked.
Kasugi was the first to break the silence. “What’re we going to do?”
“I got you out of prison, which means you owe me a debt. Right now, I need to figure out how you’re going to repay it. For now, I’m stashing you in a few safehouses that Indrajit set up. He says they’re clean, so you’ll stay there while I get things organized.”
Dropping Indrajit’s name seemed to grab their attention. A few of the inmates recognized it. If I was working with a shoemaker of his quality, it meant I was serious. Of course, they didn’t need to know that I hadn’t hired him to set up any safehouses.
“Zion’s running late,” I said, glancing at my crew. “Anna, Cyndi – take Jago and…that one,” I pointed to Dario, “to the safehouse in Westbrook. Get them settled in and keep them out of sight.” I sent a location pin to Anna, marking the underpass alcove we’d used last night for a hideout.
Anna nodded and motioned for the two inmates to follow her. Cyndi stepped in, herding them towards the Archer Hella. Jago hesitated for a moment, giving me a lingering look before getting into the car. They set off without another word.
I turned my attention to the remaining three inmates. “You two,” I said, pointing to Vincent and Kasugi, “are going with Diego. We’ve got another spot to stash you for a few days. After that, we’ll get you in touch with your people and figure out how you’re gonna repay your debt.”
Vincent looked like he was about to argue, but Diego shot him a look that shut him up real quick. Kasugi just nodded, his eyes flicking nervously between Diego and me. Without a word, they climbed into Diego’s van and left.
Noah: remember, not in the face. If we can’t get a positive ID on them, we can’t claim the bounties.
I turned to Santiago, the last inmate standing. “You’re with me,” I said. His face went pale, and his eyes darted around like a trapped animal. “We’ll wait here for another member of my crew. He’ll take you to another safe house. Cheer up; you’ll get to meet T-Bug and Songbird.”
“T-Bug?” he asked, his voice trembling. God, I felt horrible about what I was planning to do, but I didn’t want him all shaky and nervous and defensive. It’s better if he didn’t see it coming. “And who’s Songbird?”
“You ever hear about the Biotechnica fermentation facility hack? That was her. I can always use more netrunners, so you’ll be working with them.”
He seemed to relax at that, so I stepped away and lit the chooh2. The Supron was devoured by the flames. The heat hit washed over us, and I watched as the fire burned the van to nothing but metal and slag, wiping away any trace of our presence.
Santiago and I stood there in silence, the only noise coming from the crackling flames. I could feel his eyes on me, but he kept his mouth shut and didn’t start asking questions. We just watched the fire do its thing.
After what felt like an eternity, the rumble of an approaching vehicle broke the tension. Santiago glanced at the van pulling up to us and asked, his voice barely a whisper, “Is that him? The one we’re waiting for?”
“Yea,” I replied, my tone flat. As he moved towards the van, I unholstered my Kenshin. Before Santiago could react, I raised the pistol and pulled the trigger. The three-round burst echoed in the night, and Santiago crumpled to the ground. I felt horrible as fell, but our crew needed to get paid and he represented a sizeable amount of eddies.
Zion stepped out of the van, his gaze drifting down to the body in front of me. He didn’t look surprised, just curious.
“Why the hell didn’t you just kill them all back at the prison? Why go through all this trouble?”
There were a few reasons why I set things up the way I did, but I couldn’t tell Zion the full story. How would I broach the subject that I’ve got an experimental face implant that lets me morph into other people, and that I wanted Jago’s data so I could use it as a backup ID for when I needed to commit crimes without being recognized? Instead, I gave him the simpler, more practical reason for why I hadn’t just killed all the inmates back in the prison.
“We’re handing Dario over to the Valentinos. He’s gonna get us their help during election day,” I explained. “It’s easier if he doesn’t put up a fight. And Jago…he’s not like the others. Even unarmed, I wasn’t sure I could take him in the prison, especially not with the other inmates backing him up. Plus, this way, we get to turn in the bodies ourselves, without anyone else trying to claim the bounty.”
Zion nodded, buying the explanation. He opened the van door, revealing a few bodies crammed in the back. Catching my look, he smirked. “Yea, Diego and I got a couple. Two rapists, a murderer, and…get this, a bigamist. Funny enough, the bigamist had the highest bounty.”
We tossed Santiago’s body into the van. “What’s the total?”
“Probably around 50k, give or take,” Zion replied, glancing at the other bodies.
I pointed to Santiago’s corpse. “He’s worth more than 250.”
Zion let out a low whistle, then shot me a smirk. “It’s not a competition, man.”
“Check in with Diego,” I said as we slammed the van door shut. “He should be done with his two by now. Once you’ve got them, meet at the spot from last night. I’m expecting a Valentino to drop by, so find a place where you can keep an eye on things.”
I hopped back on my Kusanagi and made my way to the hideout we’d used the night before. As I weaved through the chaos on the streets, I shot off a quick few messages to everyone, checking in on Anna and Cyndi and asking Deng how The Pack was holding up. They were supposed to be protecting the voting districts, making sure the campaign people were safe while the city spiraled into madness. After what felt like an eternity riding through the city, Deng’s reply finally came through.
Deng: never seen a blackout like this hit the city before. There’ve been brownouts, sure. But nothing like this. Reminds me of when Silverhand blew up Arasaka Tower. The city was a mess for years after that. You sure you know what you’re doing, kid?
I could tell the blackout had Deng rattled. He was worried I’d bitten off more than I could chew. I got it – Night City was a beast on a good day, but without power and the infrastructure of a modern city, it became something else entirely.
Noah: It’s not permanent. It’ll probably take the city three or four days to get the power back up.
Deng: alright, kid. I gotta wonder, how you went from fumbling your gun in your waistband to knocking out an entire city and driving us all back to the stone age. But we can talk about that later. We’ve moved into the voting districts like you asked. Each campaign sent their own people with us – security, some volunteers. They’re making a big deal about hiring private security to protect everyone.
Noah: Good. Need some backup? Diego and Zion should be finishing up soon. I can send them your way.
Deng: nah. We’re good here. We ran off a few small gangs trying to stir up trouble. Albert’s hires took a couple hits, but nothing they can’t handle. Everything else is running smoothly.
I let out a breath, feeling some relief. One of my biggest concerns was how the homeless that Deng and John had been rallying would fare in the city’s anarchy. I knew they were armed and that Deng could lead them, but I had put them on the frontlines of a riot and that worried me.
Noah: Okay. Keep everyone in line. Don’t’ expect much help from the NCPD. There’s a riot going on at the prison and they’re probably sending every squad car in the city there to deal with it.
The tiny ellipsis signifying Deng’s reply kept appearing and disappearing before finally he sent something.
Deng: Damn kid. And to think, I knew you when.
&&&
When I got to the hideout near the Japantown docks, I found Anna leaning against one of the walls, arms crossed, with a tight expression on her face. She looked pretty pissed, but I couldn’t tell if it was because she had to babysit Jago and Dario or because she just helped release a bunch of prisoners and kickstart a riot. Maybe it was both. Either way, I knew we needed to talk, but now wasn’t the time.
I stepped into the little alcove hideout and took a quick look around. It was exactly how we’d left it – untouched by the chaos swallowing the rest of the city. Cyndi was in the corner, still cradling her Satara shotgun. I nodded a quick greeting to her before making my way over to the beat-up old couch someone had dragged inside. I sank into it with a sigh.
Jago stood off to the side, watching everything. I motioned for him to join me. He hesitated for a moment before settling into the chair across from the couch. Dario hovered nearby, looking completely out of his depth. For a guy who was supposed to be high up in the Valentinos, he sure looked like a nervous wreck.
“We’ve got some time to kill before I can move you to a more permanent spot,” I said, leaning back and trying to get comfortable. I activated my behavioral scanner and focused on Jago. “Might as well get to know each other a bit. All I know about you is you were in prison, and word is you’re a badass.”
Jago studied me for a moment, like he was weighing how much to share. “I’m curious who’s been talking about me. But we can get to that later. I guess I should start by telling you I’ve got ties to the Russian Bratva. Pulled a couple jobs for them over the years.”
That got my attention. The Bratva weren’t a big name in the videogame. All I knew was that they were Russian mob, and that was only because I loved watching crime documentaries in my past life. “Bratva, huh? What’s their deal?”
He seemed a bit surprised by my question. He leaned forward slightly, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “You don’t know? Most people get real cagey when I mention I’m with the brotherhood.”
I shrugged, as if I didn’t care about that. “Don’t know much about them. Who’re they?”
It was Anna who broke the silence. “They run the Scavs in Night City.”
Jago let out a chuckle. “Only most of them. A lot of so-called Scavs are just independents trying to look tough. They dress up like Scavs because they think it makes them intimidating. But the ones led by a Russian? Those are the real deal.”
He leaned back in his chair, getting more comfortable as he continued. “The Bratva handles the dirty work in Night City that keeps this city running. They find buyers for stolen cyberware, smuggle guns and drugs across the city, and handle all the jobs that gangs, fixers, and politicians don’t want to get their hands dirty with. They’re the ones you go to when you need a problem solved, no questions asked.”
A van pulled up to the hideout and I heard two doors open and close. I held out a hand to stop the passengers from getting closer while I finished speaking with Jago. He seemed curious, so he looked their way. The two passengers were still outside the hideout, and Jago couldn’t get a good look at them.
“So, you were their problem solver?” I asked.
Jago turned back to me and gave a small shrug, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Something like that. They had jobs that needed doing, I did them. Simple as that.”
My behavioral scanner pinged to let me know it had finally mapped Jago’s face, voice, and body language, and I sent a quick message to Cyndi and Anna.
Noah: remember, not in the face.
“Well, Mr. Sbernic. It’s been a pleasure speaking with you. But I’ve got more business to take care of.”
Jago was out of the chair before I even finished speaking, dodging the blast from Cyndi’s Satara. The chair’s back exploded into splinters and stuffing, but Jago was already on the ground, scrambling to get up and run. Anna was quicker. She fired off two rounds from her Nue. One hit his hip, the other his chest, and he let out a guttural groan. She stepped over to his still-thrashing body and finished the job with three more shots to the chest.
Dario, who had been seated nearby, jumped up and shrank into the corner, his eyes wide with terror at the sudden violence. I waved for the two people who’d just arrived in the van to come forward. The moment El Sombreron stepped into the alcove, I saw Dario’s face go pale. His hands trembled and his eyes went wide with fear.
El Sombreron seemed to fill the room, which was a sharp contrast to Dario’s nervous energy. I couldn’t help but wonder how Dario had ever climbed to any position of power in the Valentino organization. The guy was barely holding it together.
He turned to me, voice trembling, stumbling over his words in desperation. “The heist…when are we…what do you need me to do? I can help. I can get the ‘tinos to work with you. They’ll listen to me.”
I couldn’t help but let out a small, humorless chuckle. “There isn’t a heist, Dario. And I already got the Valentinos to help me out. I didn’t do all this to break Jago out of prison. I did it to get you here.”
The realization hit him hard, but before he could fully grasp the situation, El Sombreron was on him. He beat Dario with a brutal efficiency – each strike deliberate, calculated, and fueled by a cold, silent rage. Dario tried to plead, to beg for mercy, but El Sombreron wasn’t interested. The sickening sound of fists meeting flesh echoed in the alcove until Dario finally fell silent.
When it was all over, Dario’s lifeless body lay crumpled on the floor. El Sombreron straightened, adjusted his coat as if nothing had happened, and turned to leave. Just before he walked out, he threw a parting comment my way, his voice calm and businesslike. “Let us know what you need done on election day.”
Anna and I stared down at the bodies of Jago and Diego, each lost in our own thoughts. Finally, I got up from the couch. “Okay. Let’s figure out how to turn in all our bounties.”